


beautiful and dirty rich

by hiraethseok



Series: Rich Bitch Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Episode: s15e13 Destiny’s Child, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Incest Kink, M/M, Multi, Non-Penetrative Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Slight feminization, Sort Of, Voyeurism, and he lives by that, but with tax evasion, sam said eat the rich (out), the plot snuck in there ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethseok/pseuds/hiraethseok
Summary: Sam smirks, takes a swig of beer. “We’re going to teach them how to fuck.”Dean snorts. “Absolutely not.”“Why not?”“Why not?” Dean repeats, incredulous. “They’re us, Sam. From another dimension. And they’re brothers there, too. We can’t just… teach them how to damn themselves to hell.”“Their reality just completely fucking ended, Dean. Forgive me if I wanna help improve their state of mind.”“By fucking them?”“You got any other ideas?”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/HunterCorp Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester/HunterCorp Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, HunterCorp Dean Winchester/HunterCorp Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Rich Bitch Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751506
Comments: 17
Kudos: 140





	beautiful and dirty rich

**Author's Note:**

> when i saw 15x13 all i could think of was the possibility of these four fucking so i, uh, wrote it.
> 
> enjoy <3 comments/kudos are much appreciated!

.

Dean’s not exactly sure how he let himself get dragged into this. 

They’d been talking about HunterCorp not even ten minutes ago, and Dean had zoned out, staring down at his beer. It seems that this Other Dean is a nerd too, excitedly chattering to Sam about hunter centers and group assignments while his Sam chips in every once in a while to either elaborate or correct. By the time he curiously tunes back in, Dean’s eyes go wide. 

“So you’ve never fucked?” Sam’s asking, stunned, and Dean sees them both flush and look down at the table. Dean splutters, spits beer everywhere, and then he spins around to look at Sam, who just looks at him like he’s gone crazy. 

“Sam,” Dean hisses. “What the fuck?” 

“Calm down,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “They brought it up first, which you _would_ know if you’d been listening.”

“They… what?” And then Dean turns to meet Other Dean’s gaze. He just shrugs weakly, his grin a little too bright. 

“Why not,” he says. Dean scoffs, turns to Other Sam, but he gives him the same neutral-excited response. As a last desperate resort, he turns to Sam. 

“What exactly are we going to do, Sammy?”

Sam smirks, takes a swig of beer. “We’re going to teach them how to fuck.”

Dean snorts. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“ _Why not?_ ” Dean repeats, incredulous. “They’re us, Sam. From another dimension. And they’re brothers there, too. We can’t just… teach them how to damn themselves to hell.”

“Their reality just completely fucking ended, Dean. Forgive me if I wanna help improve their state of mind.”

“By _fucking them?_ ”

“You got any other ideas?”

Dean tries to find one, he really does. But his mind is blank except for the fact that his little brother just suggested they fuck their clones. 

He sighs. Fuck it. Their world is technically ending, too. He drains his bottle and sets it back on the table. 

“Fine,” he says. “Okay.”

Sam clasps his hands together, and that grin on his face looks downright evil. 

“So it’s settled,” he says, a little giddy. “I say we use my room because Dean’s looks like a tornado somehow ripped through it. Twice.”

Despite his empty mind, Dean musters up enough energy to flip him the bird.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


This might be the craziest sex thing he and Sam have ever done, but for some insane reason, Dean’s not regretting it. Especially because it’s actually getting good.

Dean’s gasping, rolling his hips up, tipping his head back against Sam’s shoulder.

“You should suck him off,” Sam says out loud, and Dean gathers up his scattered thoughts to lift his head up. 

It’s like looking into a funhouse mirror until his gaze settles and he picks out the differences; Other Dean’s hesitance, Other Sam’s overeagerness, the air of inexperience thick around their naked bodies. This Sam and Dean haven’t spent their lives touching and exploring and fucking, but right now, they look like they wish they had. 

Other Dean startles, pretty pink lips falling open, cheeks flushing a scandalized red. His Sam squirms under him, cock pulsing out a droplet of precome, and Dean wants so badly to crawl over and lick him clean, suck him dry, but he needs this Dean to do it, needs to see him figure out how to. 

“C’mon,” Sam snarks. “You’ve sucked dick before, haven’t you?” 

Other Dean laughs shakily. “Yes, but I--”

“Then suck him off.”

Dean groans quietly when Sam’s fingers worm into the slit of his boxers, curling hot around his cock and stroking, his wrist trapped snug between the waistband of Dean’s jeans and his stomach. Sam’s eyes flash as Other Dean hesitates, and then he growls and rips his hand free. 

“Do you want a fucking demonstration?” Dean goes dizzy, glances over at Sam and then at their doubles. Other Dean’s eyes flash, and he roves his gaze heatedly through the slender hints of muscle on Sam and Dean’s bodies through their shirts, all the way down to their legs, woven together from knee to ankle. 

“Okay,” he says. Sly fucker. Dean’s a little proud. 

Sam’s eyes are dark when Dean looks up, and then he smirks and lets his legs fall open, palming at the bulge of his own erection under his jeans. 

“C’mere, Dean,” he says. “Wanna show them how it’s done?” Dean crawls closer, nudges his hand away to get at the buttons and zippers and clasps. He’s quick with it, knows Sam is getting impatient, tugs down his jeans as soon as the belt comes off and tosses it onto the floor. 

Sam’s cock is proportional to the rest of him, thick enough to make him feel the stretch, and Dean’s mouth waters like he’s one of Pavlov’s dogs. His mouth knows its way around this cock, knows where to lick and how to suck just the way Sam likes it. 

He grabs him by the base, licks up the shaft and swallows him down. The head hits the back of his throat in one smooth push, and Dean angles himself so their doubles can see Sam jolt his hips up that last inch, see the way his throat convulses around Sam’s thick cock, to just _see_. 

While that Sam and Dean were being good little daddy’s boys, this Sam and Dean were fucking filthy in backroad bathrooms. That Dean talked to his Sam about flight schedules and paychecks, and this Dean growled dark into his Sam’s ear about all the ways he could take him apart, all the ways he could fuck him hoarse, hips slapping hips to the tempo of Sam’s cries of pleasure.

_They missed this_ , Dean thinks viciously, digs his fingers into Sam’s hips to bruise the skin there, mark him up dark. They missed all of this. 

But Sam and Dean didn’t. 

“Fuck,” Sam breathes, traces the stretch of Dean’s lips around his shaft. “Your mouth, Dean, _god_. Look at you, fucking hungry for it, huh? Needed my cock in your mouth that bad?”

Dean’s drunk off of it, nose buried in the small hairs at the base of Sam’s cock. Sam tosses his head back, slackens his jaw, lets out this deep groan that rolls across Dean’s spine in a shiver. 

“Jesus, he’s good at that.” Other Sam sounds breathless. Dean manages a smile around Sam’s cock. 

“Yes, he is,” Sam laughs. Other Dean makes a noise, and Dean pauses for a second because he knows that noise -- he’s made it before himself -- but it sounds strange to hear it as an outsider. 

Dean pulls off, breath washing hot against the spit-slick length of Sam’s cock. Sam sighs and slides a hand into his hair. 

“Wanna watch them,” Dean rasps. Sam grins winningly, all pointed canines, and pulls him up to rest against his chest. 

“Your turn,” Sam says, and Other Dean huffs, flushed. He drags his palms down Other Sam’s sides, skipping down his hips to go all the way to his thighs. He pushes them apart, gentle and coaxing, and Other Sam spreads them slow. 

His cock looks just like Sam’s, but Other Dean approaches it with a note of nervousness buried in the waves of crashing awe. He touches it like he’s never touched a dick before, and Other Sam gasps pretty as a virgin. 

Other Dean licks across the head, looking up through his lashes to gauge Other Sam’s reactions. He’s shaking a little but he nods quick and offers a thin smile.

“Keep going,” he whispers. Other Dean obeys. 

Sam’s hands brush up Dean’s shirt, fingers skimming his nipples. Dean grunts and bares his chest, presses up into the touch, and Sam takes full advantage, pinching and rolling the buds between his fingers. 

“Gonna let me play with these pretty tits?” Sam breathes into his ear. Dean shudders. Distantly, he hears Other Dean slurp his way up his Sam’s cock. “They fit right in my hands, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Yes, Jesus.”

Other Sam moans for the first time that night. 

Sam chuckles, tilts his head up. He nudges Dean’s shoulder. “Look at them.” Dean does. 

Other Dean is licking a thick stripe up Other Sam’s cock, laving over the head to lap up his precome. He leaves behind a shiny trail of spit, sliding his thumb across the mess to spread it. It dries quicker that way, but it makes Other Dean move quicker, frantic, the drag of Sam’s skin under his fingers rough and real and suddenly, Dean gets it. 

“Dean,” he calls. Other Dean pulls away to look over his shoulder. Dean smiles. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “It’s okay to like it.” Other Dean’s eyes widen and he looks a little like a spooked animal, so Dean wiggles out of Sam’s embrace and knee-walks across the bed to Other Dean. He extends an arm to brush his palm across his cheek, and Dean smirks, reads him easy.

“Kinky bastard,” he teases. Then, he leans close and kisses him. 

Other Dean stiffens into it, but he melts just as quickly. He’s a good kisser, but he’s desperate and sloppy, like he’s trying to get a grip on a rapidly fading dream. Dean gentles him, soothes Other Dean into a less panicked pace, moves his lips smooth against the soft plush of his double’s.

He pulls back with a little smack, licks across his own bottom lip quick as a flash. “You’re allowed to enjoy this.”

Other Dean’s shoulders fall but not all the way. “Okay.” 

When Dean crawls back to Sam, his brother greets him with a searing kiss. 

“That was hot,” Sam murmurs. “He okay?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, glances over to watch Other Dean kiss his brother just like he’d just kissed him. Sam’s watching too, eyes dark. “He’s good now.”

Other Dean kisses his way down his Sam’s body, fluttery and soft; learning. Dean’s Sam chuckles against his ear, slips his hands back under his shirt. 

“You remember the first time we messed around?” Dean snorts, leans back against Sam’s chest and shuts his eyes. Sam’s rolling his nipple between a thumb and forefinger, slow and lazy, and it feels _good_.

“I remember that you were the first to ask,” Dean says smugly. “You begged to suck my dick, didn’t you?” One of Sam’s hands slides down his torso, and Dean gets chills when Sam huffs out a laugh against his neck. 

“Have you seen this thing?” His fingers are quick to pop the button and undo his fly, tugging his hard cock out into the open. The other Sam and Dean are naked already, have been for a while, but this partial undress feels dirtier somehow. It’s like they’re teenagers again, fucking in a motel bathroom while their father waits impatiently in the car. It comes rushing back in a dizzying flood, that desperate need to finish so he doesn’t find out, leaks out clear against Sam’s fingers. Sam’s smirk digs into his neck.

“This,” Sam curls his fingers tighter around his shaft, “drove me fucking crazy, Dean. Still does.” And then he starts jerking him off, too slow and too gentle, but Sam knows that, knows it’s building up somewhere in his ribcage, that slow-burn frustration that floods into arousal. Sam knows this is Dean’s favorite way to come, that drip-shudder kind of climax that drags on and on and on. Dean grabs Sam’s calf and squeezes it tight. 

“S’that right?” Dean’s words are getting blurry. Sam sighs hot into his skin. 

“Yeah, Dean,” he says. His hand is so damn big. Dean’s cock fits just right into the crook of his thumb, into the meat of his palm. “Wanna know why I wanted to suck you off so bad?”

Dean knows why, of course he does, but he needs to hear Sam say it, needs to hear it spill right from his bruise-pink lips. Sam smiles like he can hear his thoughts, and when he leans close to lick at the shell of his ear, Dean wonders if maybe he can.

“Needed to know what big brother tasted like.” 

It’s a whisper, barely loud enough for anyone but Dean to hear, but it hits his groin like a dull sucker punch, buries itself into the base of his spine, jolts him dangerously close to the edge. His eyes are already closed but he tries to close them harder, floating somewhere between numb and hypersensitive, and Sam’s still stroking him slow, flaying him wide open around the heat of his fingers.

“Look at them,” Sam says suddenly, and Dean opens his eyes to a foggy, oversaturated world. He can see in front of him just fine, though; he can see the near-familiar quake of Other Sam’s thighs wrapped up around his Dean’s shoulders, that new-old tic that Dean knows is a warning. Other Sam’s looking down at his Dean with this weird look on his face, flushed and needy, desperate in a way that Sam only gets when Dean’s fucking him deep and slow and whispering worship against his ribcage. 

Other Dean’s not quite used to the weight of Sam’s cock on his tongue, but he’s attentive, glancing up again and again to see what he’s doing to his brother, how he’s making him feel. 

It’s so familiar and yet it feels like he’s intruding, and Dean can’t figure out if he should look away or watch this happen, but Sam decides for him, locks him against his shoulder and chin, forces him to see Other Sam’s jaw drop, hear Other Dean’s low, throaty groan leak around his mouthful of little-brother cock. 

“They look so pretty like this, don’t you think?” Dean nods, hips kicking up right as Other Sam’s does. “Think Dean’s gonna swallow?” 

Alternate universe or not, Dean definitely knows the answer to that.

“He will.” Other Dean hums and swirls his tongue. Other Sam nudges him impossibly closer with his heel, digging into his spine, and it has to hurt but Dean just moans like he can’t even feel the pain, like his wires have been tangled up all wrong, crossing over and under into something upside down, inside out. 

“Are they right?” Other Sam whispers, stroking Dean’s hair. He looks too sweet for the words he’s saying, strands of hair falling into his face with his man bun half undone. He’s flushed to perfection, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded, and Dean shivers with the need to see how this Sam gets ruined, how he falls apart under a same-different hand, mouth, person; what he looks like when he comes down his Dean’s throat. 

“Fuck, Dean,” Other Sam breathes, filthy deep, just wrong enough to loop back around to right. “You’re gonna make me come.”

Other Dean’s eyes flutter closed and he looks strangely content, mouth stuffed full while spit drips thick down his chin, down Sam’s cock. Dean aches watching them, chest pounding under the flood of heavy emotion, that knife-twist of wrong buried so sweetly in his belly. Other Dean pulls off with a heady gasp, looks up through his lashes at the messy halo of curls framing his Sam’s face, smiles filthy-soft with his brother’s cock resting on his lip.

“Then come.”

Other Sam shudders and Sam grips Dean’s cock tighter, like he’s trying to stave off Sam’s orgasm for him, but it’s too late. 

Other Sam shouts loudly, clenches his thighs around his Dean’s neck, drags him close to push past those pretty lips and sink into the heat of his throat. He’s making low, hurting whines when Other Dean swallows, and Dean knows he’s found the spot that makes Sam come that much harder. They smell like expensive cologne, like everything-handed-to-me scotch, but there’s a much heavier, thicker scent of sex-dirty musk cutting across it now, corrupting that good little boy-next-door into something dark, something stupid hot. 

Dean comes just like that, the taste of rich-boy brandy on his tongue, cock dripping honey-thick as Sam strips his cock, whispers praise into his ear. Dean’s jaw goes slack as he paints his shirt with come, some of it dripping down to pool against Sam’s fingers, against his jeans. 

“Fucking pretty, holy shit,” Sam’s muttering, rambling, and Dean’s mind is whiting out.

Other Sam is trembling with the aftershocks, panting hard and combing through his Dean’s hair, murmuring to him quietly. He’s staring at his mouth, at his throat, and Dean swears he can feel it when Other Dean’s adam’s apple bobs, when he finally swallows down his brother’s spunk. 

“Jesus Christ,” Other Sam laughs, a little crazily, dragging Dean up to kiss him, to lick into his mouth and taste the evidence of it himself. It’s sweet in that fucked-up way of theirs, no matter the iteration; this need to make sure it isn’t a curse or a spell or a dream that made them do it, that they really are this messed up, this ruined for anyone but each other. 

“I know,” Other Dean says, eyes shining. “I know, Sammy.”

“Dean,” Dean’s Sam pants, rolling his hips up against his spine. He loops his arms around Dean’s middle, pulls him closer and rucks his shirt up to grind slow across his lower back. His boxers are still on, dragging rough on his skin with every thrust, sticky-hot with precome. 

“Sammy,” Dean says, arches his back a little to give him a better angle. “Dean’s still hard.”

Sam stops moving. 

Dean glances over his shoulder, eyes glittering. Bingo.

“Dean,” he calls, and it’s still weird to look over and see, well, not himself, but someone he could’ve been, had things been different. His hair is still combed down and he’s still meticulously groomed, but there’s a crack in that mirage now, a burning sense of wrong jutting out between his legs, hard and wanting. This Dean’s not some rich boy prick snarking about cheap beer and cross country roadtrips anymore; this Dean can’t think of anything beyond the stifling need to come, can’t see beyond the thick haze of arousal enough to see how far he’s fallen, how he’d take anything and ask for more as long as he’d get to come.

Other Sam palms at his Dean’s hips, his skin smooth and virtually unmarred, but Other Dean is still looking at Dean. Dean smiles.

“Both of you, come here.” They hesitate in the same breath, relent in the next. Other Dean is slow to arrive, but he’s the first to fall against Dean’s chest. Other Sam knee-walks past him, slithers right into Sam’s side, and Dean couldn’t see their similarities before, but now?

The same constellations of moles are sprinkled over Other Sam’s thighs, belly, chest, tanned to a gold pretty enough to rival the wash of a summer sunset. Seeing two of them is kind of making Dean’s brain short circuit, and then Sam grins coyly and snags his double’s chin with a finger, tracing the plush of his bottom lip with his thumb.

“You’re beautiful,” Sam whispers, angel-soft, and then Other Sam laughs, eyes shining green-gold, slipping a hand around Sam’s slim waist. 

“Then so are you,” he teases. Sam doesn’t glance at the Deans but Dean knows him well enough to read that taunting little quirk in his brow.

Then, Sam pulls him close and kisses him, and Dean suddenly gets why Sam had been out of breath after his and Other Dean’s little show. 

It’s double the Sam, multiplying within the depths of his mind until he can’t see or think of anything else, but it’s so different. His Sam is rough, all-consuming and relentless until he drinks down the taste of his partner’s surrender. Control gets Sam to the edge, but it’s the loss of it that gets him over, and the timing of it is something Dean has down to an art, down to a religion. 

“Dean.” Dean turns to look at Other Dean, mind blanking at the raw need he finds in his eyes, his eyelashes dark and wet. He’s just different enough from himself that Dean doesn’t hesitate in grabbing him around the neck and dragging him in for a heavy kiss, pressing his tongue into the seam of his lips for entry, entry that Other Dean gives him immediately. 

It’s not quite trust they have with one another; it’s a mutual understanding. They _need_ this, they all do, this solid, real reassurance that everyone is okay and safe and here. It feels good to kiss Other Dean, like some secret wish is being fulfilled, some unspoken prayer answered. Sam groans and Dean snaps out of it, nibbles at Other Dean’s lip as his hand slithers down his body. 

His cock feels just like his own; the same girth, the same vein trailing the bottom, the same spot just under the head that makes his hips kick. Other Dean is throbbing, balls heavy and drawn up tight, so Dean keeps his touches light, teasing almost, but he has something planned that will make it worth the wait. 

He leans back a little to lift his shirt up and off, tossing it somewhere across the room, sighing as the cool air hits his overheated body. Other Dean helps him with his jeans and boxers, dragging them down his thighs and throwing them, too. Dean grins, kisses him in thanks, and then his hand returns its grip around Other Dean’s cock, tugging slowly. Other Dean’s hand creeps up his chest and he rubs his palm over his heart, fingers splayed over his collarbone and tracing faint along the gap. 

Dean pulls away when he starts getting close, thumbs over the slick head and smears it down, and he knows it’s not nearly enough to send him over the edge. When Other Dean huffs, Dean presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth in apology, and then he glances over at their little brothers and his mouth goes dry. 

Sam’s legs are spread, bracketing Other Sam’s hips with his knees, pulling him down to grind their dicks together. His boxers are gone and he’s smiling hazily. Other Sam’s face is on fire, tucked away in Sam’s neck, and Sam is murmuring something into his ear, something that makes his hips jerk, makes him slide his cock hot against Sam’s. 

Other Sam’s hard again, leaking pretty onto Sam’s dick, and Dean feels himself go a little dizzy. Sam fucking _talked_ his double into round two. 

“Jesus,” Other Dean mutters, and if Dean could find words, he would say the same. 

“Fuck,” Dean hears Sam say. “Just like that, _yeah_. You like grinding that big dick against mine? You’re leaking so much, shit, like a fucking tap, aren’t you? Does this feel good?”

Other Sam nods meekly, drives his hips down again and again and again, and they look like they belong in some abandoned museum, meant to be left suspended atop a pedestal and kept there forever; untouched, admired. But Dean’s got plans, and watching them come like this isn’t one of them. 

“Sam,” he barks, and Sam jerks his head to the side, stares down at Dean with a dazed look in his eye until he gets his bearings. 

“Dean?”

“Stop, both of you. I want to see something.”

Other Sam doesn’t quite stop, and frankly, Dean doesn’t blame him; he knows how good Sam’s cock feels against his, how hot his thighs are pressed tight to his hips, how nasty his words can get. But Sam knows enough for the both of them, and he gently stills Other Sam and placates him with a soft kiss. 

“Sam,” Dean calls, and both Sams pull away and turn, but Dean’s staring right at Other Sam. “All fours. Right here.” He pats the bed next to him. 

Other Sam crawls over, offers Dean a wobbly little grin. Dean smiles back and glances at Other Dean. He doesn’t look away until realization blooms on his double’s face and he gets a nod.

“C’mere,” Dean says, lifting Other Sam’s chin with a finger. Sam’s gaze drops down to his mouth, eyes big and doe-eyed, and then Dean’s pressing his lips against his. 

It’s not like kissing Sam at all, and Dean’s a little grateful for it. He kisses him like he’s someone new, someone to impress on a first date, but it ends up slip-sliding into heated growls and whispery moans anyway because it’s Sam and it’s Dean and some things won’t ever change. 

He pulls away and smiles reassuringly. “Sammy?” Sam crawls over, and Dean directs him to sit behind Other Sam.

“Now Dean.” And Dean gestures his double over, pushes him down to where Sam had been a few minutes ago, legs spread under Other Sam, clutching hard around his hips. He’s looking up at his brother, gaze flickering over to Dean and then down to Sam before he finally sighs and settles down. 

“Okay?” Dean asks. Everyone nods. Dean grins. 

“Sammy,” he begins, but Sam doesn’t need any more instruction. Dean trails off into silence, stares, enraptured, as Sam squeezes one of Other Sam’s ass cheeks and pulls, ignoring his embarrassed mewling at the exposure. 

He’s pink and soft-looking down there, and Dean would be jealous if he wasn’t so obsessed with watching Sam lean in and lick a solid stripe across his hole, moaning in harmony with Other Sam. His other hand is busy pumping his weeping erection until it isn’t, and then he grabs the other cheek and pulls him wide open, takes a second to spit into the crack, watch the glob slip down into the pucker. Other Sam’s legs are shaking, nerves alight and unused to the feeling, and then Sam seals his mouth around his hole and sucks, holding him down when he bucks back, crying out. 

Other Dean curls a hand in his Sam’s hair, soothing and simmering the heat between them. He slides his other hand down his back, cupping a hip and urging him into a slow grind. Other Sam’s a little sluggish at first, but he builds up a good rhythm, moving forwards into Dean’s cock, backwards onto Sam’s tongue. The hand on Sam’s hip slips down, past his blood-hot cock to his balls, heavy and ready to burst. 

“Dean,” Other Sam gasps, and then, haltingly, “Sam.” He rocks back and forth between the two sources of stimulation, swaying almost drunkenly. Sam’s not holding back at all, and Dean knows all too well why Other Sam’s gasping and fisting the sheets.

“Yeah, Sammy,” Other Dean murmurs, words split open on a moan when Sam’s cock catches a sensitive nerve. “Like that.”

Dean’s pretty sure he can’t get hard again yet, but his cock twitches anyway. Sam pulls back to thumb over his hole, not pushing, and he waits for Other Sam to whine and push his hips back before he clicks his tongue. 

“Focus on Dean,” Sam reminds him. “Make him feel good, too.”

Other Sam flushes, dips his head obediently to lap across one of Dean’s nipples. Dean moans, tangles a hand up in the mess of a bun on his head, pushes him closer. Other Sam takes the hint, starts to bite and suck and whimper, and it’s only then that Sam hums and leans in again, whispering _good boy_ against his hole before licking across it. 

Other Sam switches sides quickly, suckles the other nipple to the same red as the first, and then he whines again, low in his throat, and pulls away with a gasp. 

“Wanna come,” he says, halfway to a sob. “Please Dean.” Other Dean cups his cheek, pulls him down for a slow kiss. When they pull back, Dean smiles. 

“C’mon, then,” he says, and he guides Other Sam into that same slow rhythm, thrusting his own hips up to meet his brother’s. 

Dean can see when Other Sam gets close, slip-sliding against Other Dean’s slick belly, balls pulling up tight to his body, and then Sam grabs them too, rolling them in his palm. 

Dean flushes hot, then cold, then he stops caring. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, demands, isn’t sure what he’s feeling past the dull buzz of _yesyesyes_ under his skin. “Gonna come all over your big brother, Sam? Gonna cover his cock with your spunk?”

Other Sam shakes apart, gaping, and then he finally comes, soundless until Other Dean grabs his own dick and Sam’s and mashes them together, jerking furiously to meet his brother at the edge. Other Sam scoots his knees apart and Sam points his tongue, fucks him through it. Everyone can hear Other Sam’s guttural moan, and it finally sends Other Dean careening over the edge with him, shooting his own jizz all over himself and his brother. Sam pulls away once Other Sam goes lax, letting go of his ass and rubbing at the skin soothingly. 

Other Sam blinks awake with a far-away look in his eyes, and he stares down at his brother like he’s not sure this isn’t a dream. Other Dean just grins dopily, hooks him behind the neck and pulls him down into a kiss. Dean watches them slump, fall into one another, and he can see the inklings of familiarity swirl between them. 

“Dean,” Sam whispers, and Dean looks over immediately, gaze dropping to the still-hard erection he’s fisting. Dean starts to move, reaches out to help tug him to completion, but Other Sam shoots him a look that has him stopping in his tracks. 

Other Sam glances over his shoulder, and now Dean _is_ jealous of his brother, and of the view he’s getting. 

Other Sam is dripping sin, belly still gleaming with both his and Other Dean’s release. His eyelids are at half-mast, and he has this little smile on his face that’s driving Dean crazy. From that hitch in Sam’s breath and the louder _slapslapslap_ sound of his fist meeting his flesh, it’s doing things to Sam, too. 

Then Other Sam wraps a shaking hand behind him, grips one of his cheeks and tugs it aside, bares his hole right for Sam to look at, to stare at, and fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing Dean’s ever seen. 

“Want you to come right here,” Other Sam whispers, trailing his middle finger over his hole. “Want you to get me all messy,” and scratch that, _this_ is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, especially when Sam groans and tips his head forward and shoots all over Other Sam’s ass just like that, fucking into his fist, and from the right angle, it kind of looks like he’s fucking _him_. 

Dean swallows thickly. Other Dean whispers a quiet curse. 

“Jesus Christ,” Sam gasps, fingers shaking as he lets go of his cock, goes straight to Other Sam’s ass to lick up the streaks of white and spit it out right over his winking hole, thumbing the sloppy-wet mix of come and saliva against it.

Sam pulls back and helps Other Sam up, kisses him hard as soon as he can, hungry and grateful. Other Sam struggles to get his bearings, but he hums and lets Sam lead, kisses him sweetly back. 

Other Dean sighs heavily, slumps back against the bed. Dean crawls over to him, quirks his lips into a smirk. 

“So?” he asks. “How was it?” Other Dean laughs in disbelief. 

“I can’t even begin to explain. And you’ve been doing this for years?” Dean hums in affirmation, and Other Dean jitters like he’s still in shock. 

“We could’ve been doing that for so long,” he whispers, turns to look at Dean with a wistful look on his face. “I should probably thank you for showing us what it’s like.”

Dean snorts, and then he collapses right next to Other Dean, pulls him close and tosses an arm across his stomach. “No problem, man, it was worth it. Your Sam is fucking insatiable.”

Other Dean huffs out a laugh. “I suppose he’s always been a brat.” Dean laughs a little too, rests his cheek against his double’s shoulder. It’s peaceful like this, air still thick with musk, clipped at the edges with the cologne that’s somehow still permeating the room. He can hear Sam whispering to Other Sam, something sweet and low and soft, probably rubbing him down and bringing him out of whatever headspace he’s in. Dean’s belly warms. Sam’s always been good at aftercare. 

“We have to leave, don’t we?” It’s a statement more than a question, but Dean nods anyway. 

“There’s too much going on right now that I’d rather you two were far, _far_ away from.” Other Dean hums, stares up at the ceiling. Dean hears rustling, and then Sam’s laying behind him, slipping a hand around his waist. Other Sam crawls up to Other Dean’s free side and curls up like a cat, face turned into Other Dean’s neck. Other Dean is quick to pull him close, and Dean somehow knows that they’re gonna be just fine. 

“Rio’s nice this time of year,” Dean says quietly. “Sammy and I could arrange something for you guys tomorrow morning.”

The promise of tonight leaves Other Dean smiling. His Sam is snoring lightly now, and he turns to plant a little kiss on the top of his head. Then, he turns back around and kisses Dean again, soft and searching and, at the core of it, endlessly grateful. 

He pulls away and leans over him to kiss Sam, too, and Dean’s heart jerks in his chest. 

“Don’t forget us,” he jokes when they pull away, but it comes out a little flat. “Call us sometime, maybe we can talk. Or something.”

It’s not goodbye, but it feels a little like it when Other Dean laughs and flashes them a sly grin.

  
  


“I think we’d both like that.”

  
  
  


.

**Author's Note:**

> ik the entire world is a little bit of a mess rn but i hope yall are doing well!! pls stay safe out there and be sure to take care of yourselves <3


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